


worse dreams

by orphan_account



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blood and Injury, Gen, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Non-Graphic Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-23
Updated: 2015-04-23
Packaged: 2018-03-25 09:17:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3805000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gon wakes up. Something is wrong, and Gon loves Killua too much to hate him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	worse dreams

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DekuPrince](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DekuPrince/gifts).



> I keep saying I'll write something that isn't horrible one day and that keeps not being the case, so once again, sorry. This time it's a canon-divergent scenario that came out of a "what-if" sort of discussion with Jensen. Written with Kirugon in mind, but there are no direct mentions of romance. 
> 
> For my soulmate, as always.

Gon wakes slowly, his head pounding and his body sore and aching. His limbs feel heavy and he's groggy, struggling to pull his thoughts into order, the way he sometimes feels after sleeping too long and too deeply. He squirms a little, seeking a more comfortable position in the soft sheets of the wide hotel bed, but then doesn't move for a long time, no energy yet to pry his gritty eyes open and face the daylight. Instead he lies still, looks at the light that filters through his eyelids, turning them the bright, glowing red of hot metal. He can hear Killua somewhere nearby and tries to focus on that instead of the throbbing in his skull, keeping himself company with Killua's steady breathing and the soft rustling noises he makes when he's trying to avoid alarming people with his too-silent footsteps.

After a long time Gon reaches up to rub one eye with the side of his fist, cracking his eyelid gingerly, and has to spend a long minute squinting and blinking hard while the blurriness he sees comes into focus. Wetness forms involuntarily at the corner of his eye from the combination of the scratchy, almost painful sensation of his eye and the bright, midday sunlight that filters through the curtains of the hotel room. Gon holds himself still, tracking the sensation of the tear as it drips down his temple and into his hairline. When it disappears into his hair he sighs, releasing the tension in his muscles, then gathers his energy and pushes himself up to sit. He props himself up on one hand and uses the other to scrub at his face while he blinks both eyes open, waiting for the blood to stop pounding painfully in his head. In the corner of his eye he catches a glimpse of bright silver movement- Killua, tipping his head lazily back over one shoulder to glance at Gon without bothering to get up from where he's hunched in a chair, facing the table with one knee drawn up to his chest.

"Finally up, huh? Sure took you long enough, lazy." Killua's tone is casual, neither mockery nor annoyance evident in his voice, but his gaze feels too heavy on Gon's shoulders, and Gon looks away from him. His mouth is still thick and heavy with sleep, tastes faintly of blood and something bitter that Gon doesn't recognize, and it takes him several long seconds to answer as he forces himself to speak against his body's desire to remain silent and alone. 

"Yeah," he says, then winces at the sound of his own voice. Even to his own ears he sounds like he hadn't spoken in weeks, his voice a gravelly croak in his throat. He swallows, runs his tongue over his teeth, tries again. "Yeah. Sorry for waking up so late Killua, I must have been more tired than I thought." Killua waves him off, not looking up from the game console he's jabbing at the buttons of.

"Don't worry about it. It's not like we've got any plans anyway. You should hurry up though- there's brunch downstairs, but they're only serving until one." Gon glances at the clock on the bedside table, sees 12:27 staring back at him in accusatory red. He's never been at a hotel that serves brunch on weekdays, but he's sure it had been Tuesday night when he fell asleep.

"Oh- okay. Thanks, Killua." Killua  makes a vague motion at him over his shoulder and reaches into his pocket to pull out a lollipop, unwrapping it one-handed and sticking it in his mouth. Gon makes a face at the back of Killua's head that has more to do with eating candy before a meal than the obvious dismissal, and picks himself up off the sheets to stagger to the bathroom.

He glances out the window as he makes his way around the bed, noting the leaves of the trees that line the hotel property starting to turn. Gon recognizes the species of tree, knows they'll be a lovely, vivid shade of orange in a few more weeks, and wonders idly if he and Killua will be around long enough to see it. Killua hates the cold, scoffs at the idea of jumping into carefully-raked piles of leaves only to gather them back up and do it all over again, but Gon thinks it would be fun. They're getting to be too old for it- Mito-san would scold them if she saw them at it- but he can probably still bribe Killua with hot chocolate and new clothes bought on the convenient excuse of the weather changing.

His thoughts carry him right past Killua, and he doesn't even realize he's made it to the bathroom until he's turning the handle and stepping inside, pushing the door closed and locking it behind him. He lets go of a breath he hadn't realized he was keeping trapped in his chest and slumps back against the door, his distraction fading and leaving room for the dull, aching pains in his body to float back into his awareness. He does his best to ignore it, but staring in the mirror as he brushes his teeth makes it impossible not to notice that he looks as tired as he feels, dark bruises under his eyes and a sickly paleness under the tan of his skin. He feels a little better after he finishes scrubbing the coppery bitterness out of his mouth, eyeing the pinkish swirls tainting the toothpaste he spits back into the sink, but then he has no more excuses not to pull his shirt over his head and examine himself in the mirror. He takes a deep breath, bracing himself for it, and reaches back to grab his collar, whipping the shirt over his head as fast as he can, like ripping off a bandaid.

What he sees makes him swallow hard, biting his lip viciously to keep himself from making any sound that would alert Killua that something's wrong. There are new scars in the silvery webbing of marks already present on his skin, ones he doesn't remember finding during his last, careful cataloging of his injuries. He's far more familiar with his own body than most other people will ever be with theirs- he's a physical person, thinking and feeling with his body as much as his mind, and being a fighter means that knowing his body better than anyone else could be an edge he needs in battle someday. Combined, it makes it easy for him to keep track of what scars are new and old, even when the newest ones have already begun to fade from bright, angry pink to silvery white, ghosts of old pain. Most of them still hurt a little when he runs his fingers over them, and Gon wonders how deeply he had been cut, how badly burned. 

He's never mentioned it to anyone, not even Killua. The wounds always seem random, no particular pattern to them that Gon can discern, and they fade easily into the patchwork of scars he already bears from fights, or training, or even accidents here and there. It would be difficult to convince anyone that they're something far less natural, something that makes Gon's gut churn in a way that he's never experienced before, so he keeps quiet about them.

He never tells Killua that he remembers in bits and pieces. He keeps them to himself, the memories of cold metal restraints biting into the soft skin of his wrists, the slow, searing agony of knife-like nails through his flesh, the bright flash of Killua's beautiful eyes, too wide and too close in a dim room that Gon doesn't recognize. Killua's voice whispering to him with each stroke of his fingers along Gon's chest, his stomach, down his shoulders and thighs, Killua whispering stories in his ear of old hurts that Gon inflicted on him, slights and abuses that Gon barely remembers. He thinks, from the snatches of the one-sided conversations that he remembers, that he probably deserves whatever pain Killua needs to inflict on him- that if this is something Killua needs, to right wrongs of Gon's own doing, then he can suffer the half-recalled agony and the new scars he wakes to sometimes.

He pulls his shirt back on, turns off the faucet, and takes a deep breath. Squaring his shoulders, he tries to bury the thoughts of sharp nails spilling his blood, warm down his chest, of the bitter liquids Killua coaxes down his throat to keep him asleep and forgetful while he heals, of the yellowing leaves outside that had been bright summer green the last time he looked out the window at them. Instead, Gon pulls his focus back to brunch, the prospect of warm, fresh food in his belly and his best friend smiling and rolling his eyes at him from across the table. He smiles sincerely as he pushes the bathroom door open.


End file.
